Zero Summer
by Plasticlunchbox
Summary: Katniss and Peeta try to pull themselves back together after Mockingjay. pre-epilogue
1. Chapter 1

After breakfast Peeta and I went out to look at the primrose branches he had planted. They looked unhealthy, but appearances can be deceiving and I knew that the life inside the plants would show sooner or later. For something to do, we checked on Haymitch.

He was asleep, as usual, with his hand on his knife and his head on the table. Peeta removed the knife before shaking Haymitch awake. He woke with a throwing motion of his knife hand then focused on Peeta.

"Peeta! Glad you're back! Now you can help me watch Katniss," he slurred.  
"I can take care of myself," I said sullenly. It had become my habit to resist appearing helpless, though my voice lacked conviction. No one contradicted me. They knew that I was aware of my weakness. This knowledge should have fired me with a determination to regain my strength, but it only added to my apathy.

The days that followed were mostly a blur. Every day, Peeta came over. Sometimes I remembered it and sometimes I didn't. Some days I rocked in my chair for 12 hours, imagining myself in a boat in the middle of an endless ocean. Some days I sat in front of Peeta's bakery, watching mundane village activity with an interest that defied reason. On really good days, I went for walks. I was still weak from months of inactivity, and couldn't go far. Sometimes Peeta went with me, and sometimes I went alone.

Whether he was with me or not, I spent a good part of my day thinking about Peeta. When we were together, we found conversation difficult. Since most of our shared life had been filled with horrific events, every subject we might have discussed had the potential to drown us in agonizing memories. Talking about my mother inevitably led to thoughts about Prim which led to replaying her fiery death over and over in my mind. Talking about Johanna led to memories of Wiress and Finnick. Talking about Delly Cartwright usually led to flashbacks of torture for Peeta. We couldn't talk about my prep team without remembering Portia and Cinna and what they had suffered for us. Peeta wasn't interested in discussing his dead family. Neither of us was interested in discussing Gale.

The only people we could safely talk about were Haymitch and Greasy Sae. Their doings, no matter how boring, provided most of the food for our conversations. We also discussed village happenings, Peeta's baking, and our modest gardening projects. We did not exchange views on Snow, Coin, Paylor, Plutarch Heavensbee or anything political. Though we both had frequent sessions with Dr. Aurelius we never referred to them. We also avoided any mention of or relationship, its past or its future.

When Peeta was absent, I spent a lot of time worrying about our relationship. There was no question that his return had given me whatever small desire I had for leaving my rocking chair. I sensed that Peeta would be central to any sort of fuller life that was awaiting me, but I could not imagine how we could grow back together. The intimate past we had shared highlighted our current distance. I knew that he still suffered from nightmares and I often saw his bedroom lights on when I awoke from my own terrors; yet we always slept in our own houses. I would have felt safer with Peeta closer, but wasn't sure how to ask him to stay. The thought that he might not want to stay kept me from broaching the subject. He never attempted to hug me or touch me in any way. My body was equally indifferent to his presence, but I somehow knew that I needed physical contact with someone. If Peeta was not that someone, I didn't know who it was. Most of all, I longed for the loving acceptance he had always lavished on my before his capture. He was still accepting, but in a less affectionate way. If he wanted anything more than calm companionship, it was not obvious to me.

Still, Peeta was around and he gave me something to think about besides the meaninglessness of my empty life. During one of my phone sessions with Dr. Aurelius, I was once again wallowing in survivor guilt.

"I have nothing to give," I said. "I eat and sleep and take up space. How many people died in fear and agony for my worthless existence?"

Usually, Dr. Aurelius just listened, but this time he said, "So what do you plan to do about it?"

"What?" How could I do anything about it? They were dead and I was alive and nothing could change it.

"Well, you have only two choices at this point. You can either go on living or not. What are you going to choose?"

I sat in bewildered silence for five minutes as I pondered the decision before me. He was right. My only choices were to go on living or not, though it seemed he didn't care what I chose.

"Well, since I don't want to kill myself," I said sarcastically, "I guess I'll go on living."

"Good," said Dr. Aurelius. "Since you've decided to go on living, I would like to make a suggestion. Make a routine for yourself. Sometimes it takes less effort to go through the motions of a normal life than to try to decide if you have enough strength for every little activity."

He was right. I was wasting my energy on the basics. Perhaps if I devoted less thought to them, I wouldn't be too tired to tackle more important things.  
At first it was a challenge to make myself follow a plan. I had always hated and resisted my schedule in District 13, but my increasing disgust for my aimless life made me want to try to change.

In time, it became easier. Most days I showered and dressed in clean clothes. I ate regular meals three times a day. I exercised a little. I spent the night in my bed wearing pajamas unless it was a very bad night. I soon added short hunting trips to my schedule. When I couldn't sleep at night I wove my hair into elaborate braids instead of rocking next to the fire.

As my body grew stronger from better nutrition and more regular activity, my mind began to clear a little. I no longer spent hours wondering whether to eat lunch of not. This left me free to think about other things, like Peeta.  
Since his return, he seemed to be a shadow of his former self. He still did the things he used to: baking, painting, helping neighbors, talking to me, but without enthusiasm. I began to see that, like mine, his personality was struggling to break through all of the scars left by a traumatic couple of years. Without warning, he sometimes lapsed into catatonia for minutes or hours. Nothing I said or did could bring him back to the present.

I wished I could do something to help us to a better life than a dogged pursuit of normalcy in between nightmares and flashbacks.

One fine day in June, I found that help for us. This day had been particularly bad. I'd spent most of the night pacing and braiding my hair in attempt to forget the nightmares that had woken me almost as soon as I went to bed. It was Finnick's death that was replaying itself in my dreams that night. I had witnessed so many gruesome deaths, but the image of his perfect body being torn apart by the lizard mutts terrified me more than the others. His screams, the darkness and odor of the sewers all came back vividly and repeatedly. Once I began to dream about Finnick, I rarely slept again for many hours. The fear of reliving that moment kept sleep at bay.

The next day I was exhausted and jittery. Peeta came to breakfast and stared in surprise as he took in the combination of the arresting braided sculpture atop my head and my heavy eyes and bloodless complexion. He asked a few gentle questions, but I could only shake my head. He left for the bakery and I slung my bow over my arm to avoid a day in the dreaded rocking chair.

Though the day was beautiful, the cheerful sun and singing birds grated on my nerves. I could not free myself from thoughts of Finnick. He had given himself for me when his life was finally worth living. He ought to have gone back home to father the child he would never see. I was completely undeserving of his sacrifice.

I sat under a tree and tried to still my thoughts. I stayed perfectly motionless until I could hear all the noises of the forest. These sounds were so familiar to me and I knew what they all meant. I knew all of the plants around my feet, except...

There was a plant growing next to a small bush a few meters to my left. It looked like an herb my mother gathered during the summer for seasoning soups. It was difficult to find, so I had rarely gathered it myself, but the memory of its taste made my mouth water. With the breakdown of the Capitol system, our diet contained little variety, and any new flavor would be a welcome change. I picked the few leaves that the little plant could afford and stuffed them in my game bag. I stayed in the woods until I had game to bring home. The herbs should not be wasted on canned meat.

On my way home I began to worry that I had mistaken the plant. My mother had always gathered that particular herb in another part of the woods. As miserable as my life was, I didn't fancy the thought of poisoning myself and possibly Peeta. I would just have to check my mother's plant book.

Except I couldn't. My mother had it with her in District four. I dug the herbs out of my bag and tossed them on the ground.

After lunch, I sat in the room my mother used for an office. I was still trying not to sleep, hoping that something interesting and absorbing would occur to drag my mind out of replays of Finnick's death. But nothing occurred and the terror and the guilt returned as I failed to keep the memories at bay. It was so sad that I could not replace this never-ending loop of Finnick's last moments with something better. If only I could dream about my first meeting with him, or his playful antics in the water during the quarter quell, or his dance with Annie at their wedding. Those memories were the real Finnick.

That's when I had the idea: I would write down good memories the dead. Like my mother's herb book, it would be a record of the those things about them that should not be forgotten. It would help me honor the people who gave so much for me and the rest of Panem.


	2. Chapter 2

Peeta didn't come until after dinner. Though he looked tired, I excitedly shared my idea with him. He agreed to help me with the book. "It would be nice to paint something besides nightmares," he said.

I wanted to get started right away. It was hard to wait for the next train to bring writing supplies from Dr. Aurelius, who whole-heartedly approved the project. While I waited, I began to write the book in my head. As I filled my days with favorite memories, my nights became a little less horrible. Death still dominated my dreams, but I occasionally woke to pleasant images floating on the edge of my consciousness.

The day the parchment and pens arrived I began writing immediately. I started with the man who had been the impetus for the project-Finnick. If Peeta had any curiosity about this choice, he kept it to himself. There was no need for Peeta to paint Finnick's extensively photographed beauty, so he painted the cake he had made for the wedding. I wrote about the training before the quarter quell.

For the first time since our return home, Peeta and I reminisced about a fellow tribute. We laughed about Finnick's revealing gold costume, his outrageous flirting, and the fainting fits caused by his poem for his one true love. Peeta made a little sketch of Finnick's face twisted in a leer and tinted green; that was how he remembered Finnick's face when we scared him awake on the beach. I wrote steadily as Peeta and I took turns to tell stories. Peeta was gently making fun of Finnick much the way he used to, but jarring notes occasionally broke the easy flow of conversation.

"I remember Mags kissing Finnick before she walked into the poison fog."

"I remember when I threatened to take Annie from Finnick if he didn't treat her well."

"Gale told me that he thought that you and Finnick were..." Peeta didn't finish the statement, but I already knew the ending the the sentence. For a few seconds Peeta stared at me, his mouth open as if he were still planning to say the rest of the words. Then he looked down and went back to his painting with a frown on his face and a slightly trembling hand.

How was I supposed to respond? It seemed impossible and ridiculous that Peeta would worry about Finnick and me. Perhaps my decision to begin the book with Finnick had caused old suspicions to resurface. Peeta still had difficulty distinguishing the true from the false and even minor questions sometimes bothered him for days.

I forced myself to speak. "You know Gale was mistaken, right?"

"Of course," said Peeta defensively. He kept his eyes on his painting.

I couldn't think of anything else to say so I returned to my writing. After working in silence for a few more minutes, Peeta gathered his supplies and said good night.

I sighed as the door closed behind him; it was a disappointing ending to the best evening we'd shared since his return. Returning to my book, I found that I was in the middle of recounting the night Finnick taught me to tie ropes in the bunker. My mind had almost gone to pieces that night from worrying about Peeta in the hands of Peacekeepers. Combined with the fear had been ache of missing the boy I loved. How tragic that I was still missing that boy even when he was with me. I desperately wanted the old Peeta back, but it seemed that it might not be possible.

He came over the next day to help with the book. We began Mags' page and Peeta painted her last kiss with Finnick. He masterfully recreated the scene: Finnick, surprised by the gesture and already partially paralyzed by the gas, had Peeta draped over his shoulder. Mags, with one arm hanging uselessly and the fingers of the other on Finnick's chest, was kissing Finnick's lips with her eyes closed. I wondered how Peeta could remember so accurately when his actual view of the event had probably been restricted to Finnick's back.

As we worked together and talked more, Peeta's old personality surfaced more and more often. Some of his memories were distorted and setting them straight was a relief. It was as if we were pulling splinters out of his mind and allowing the wounds to heal. Remembering the things that we had experienced together helped us to remember how they had bound us together. By the time we had created a dozen pages, I felt that we were really friends again. Peeta was at my house whenever he wasn't sleeping or baking and our conversations rarely dried up for lack of material anymore.

One evening we were working on a page for Rue. After detailed descriptions from me, Peeta was painting her with arms slightly outstretched, poised on her toes. I watched him paint for a while, then went to heat up some squirrel stew.

I had begun hunting again about a week after we had started on the working on the book was a catharsis, I sometimes needed a break from it. Hunting reinvigorated me and kept me from drowning in pathos. As I turned on the stove, I noticed Peeta's bread was getting very dark. He must have gotten immersed in his painting and forgotten about it. I pulled it out of the oven and set the loaves on a rack to cool.

A few minutes later Peeta came into the kitchen.

"Thanks for rescuing my bread. I was so absorbed in painting Rue that I forgot all about it."

"No problem," I said, turning back to my stew.

Without warning, his arm was around my shoulders and a piece of bread was in front of my mouth.

"Have a bite; it's best right out of the oven," said Peeta, his mouth already full.  
I took a bite and he was gone, back to working on his painting.

My mouth was warm from the bread and my shoulder was warm from the memory of his arm. It was the first time he had touched me since his return and he had done it as casually as if all months of torture, war, estrangement, and brokenness had never occurred. Did he know what he had done? Had he simply forgotten that there had ever been distance between us or was he deliberately breaking the ice? If it was the former, so much the better. If it was the latter, he hadn't displayed any desire to discuss it. I decided that the best response would be to follow his lead.

After dinner Peeta called me over to look at his painting. Only Rue's face was finished, but it was beautifully done. Rue's expression was as carefree as if she had been home in District 11. Tears began pricking my eyes because she had been so young and winsome, so kind-hearted amidst poverty and brutality and because she had been like Prim. I couldn't find the words to tell Peeta how pleased I was, so I squeezed his arm. He didn't look at me, but he put his hand over mine and we remained like that for a few moments until Buttercup decided to examine the picture as well.

"I'd better take this page back to my house to dry so that he doesn't make a mess of it," said Peeta while he quickly gathered his supplies.

"All right," I said, managing to keep the disappointment out my voice. "I'll hold him til you go."

I remained in my chair, stroking the cat and marveling that we had touched and wondering if Peeta would ever stay the night with me again. I felt lonelier than ever that night and I dreamed of singing to Rue as she died in my arms.


	3. Chapter 3

Even before we'd started on it, I had told Haymitch about the book. His response was pretty much what I expected.

"A memory book for our fallen comrades, eh? So we can cry together some more? I'd rather be pecked to death by those geese," he said pointing to his noisy flock in the back yard. "On second thought, I'd rather drink myself to death and I think I'll start on that right now."

Haymitch didn't come over often, but when he did, Peeta and I were usually working on the book. Though he initially refused to get involved, we did our best to draw him in. At first, he would only correct our mistaken information, then he began to add a few details here and there. Soon, he was giving us whole histories. He remembered every tribute he'd ever mentored in great detail.

Unfortunately for Haymitch, digging up the past didn't seem to help him to make peace with the past. After each heartbreaking story, he would stumble home to drown his sorrow. One night I asked Peeta about it.

"Do you think it's too late for Haymitch? I mean, will his past always drive him to drink?"

"I don't know," said Peeta slowly. "He's dealt with it this way for so long, I don't know if he could change anymore. I might be the same if I had to face all those memories on my own for that long." We were silent for a few minutes while I contemplated the grim possibilities of what coping methods I'd have found by now if not for Peeta and Haymitch. Perhaps he was doing the same.

When I looked up, Peeta's eyes were on me and they looked pitifully sad. As much as we were helping each other, I was still broken and still needy. Peeta's eyes told me that it was the same for him. I reached out and put my hand on top of his. This was as much contact as we'd had since the night he'd broken the ice. "Are you doing OK, Katniss?" he asked. He'd have probably liked if I'd have asked this question of him.

"I'm OK," I said. "I'm a lot better than I was. How about you?"

"The same, I guess. I thought I would be better than I am by now. I'm glad we're together more and talk more. I think I'm just tired."

"Me too. I sometimes wonder if I'll ever sleep through the night again. I really miss sleeping."

This would have been the moment for one of us to suggest sleeping together, but I couldn't bring myself to ask him to stay. What if he was afraid to stay with me? What if he suspected he'd derive no comfort from my restless presence? I couldn't bear to introduce any awkwardness into our now comfortable companionship. So I let the moment slide. Peeta did too. I was glad I hadn't said anything.

Peeta stayed for several more hours. We worked well into the night, reluctant to face going to bed. Finally, Peeta rose and gathered up his supplies.

"Good night, Katniss. I'll see you tomorrow."

"Bye," I said, hating to see him go.

As he put his hand on the door knob, he hesitated then turned around. "You know, Katniss, I've started to really hate my house. Every night I walk up and down the halls and in and out of the rooms til I feel like I'm on a treadmill. Do you mind if I just stay? I'll sleep on the couch and you can lock your door if you're afraid of me."

I wanted him to stay desperately and fear was not any part of my emotions at that moment. Still, I asked, "are you afraid of hurting me?"

"Not at all. I haven't had any desire to hurt you in a long time, but I can understand why you might worry. I wouldn't hold it against you if you were afraid of me."

"I'm not afraid. Please stay."

"Thanks Katniss," he said as he laid down on the couch and closed his eyes. I was tired too, but I went up to get a pillow and and a blanket for him. Peeta was already asleep when I brought them down. I wondered if he'd slept much in the last few days. How sad that he'd wanted to stay but had thought I would turn him away. I lifted his head to slide the pillow under it, savoring the feel of my hands in his hair. I tucked the blanket around him and went up to bed.

Knowing Peeta was in the house gave me an added feeling of security and I slept longer than usual before waking to a relatively mild nightmare. In my dream, I was trying to pull Peeta to shore during the first few minutes of the quarter quell and he was getting heavier and heavier. I had already gone under the water a few times before I woke up gasping. I sat up in bed and tried to slow my breathing. A small flicker of warmth gave relief from the suffocating terror. I was not alone.

As the dream receded, I wondered if I should I go downstairs and see if Peeta had awakened. It would be nice to talk to someone while I tried to calm down. But perhaps it wasn't a good idea to be together at night. Would he fear me or even recognize me? Or would the lowered inhibitions of the night lead us to... I couldn't even bring myself to speculate on that, but an image of myself being held in strong, scarred arms passed through my mind. It would be better to leave him alone. I would distract myself with my hair instead.

After five minutes I gave up braiding my hair. Being alone was unbearable when he was only steps away. I crept down the stairs, my heart beating with apprehension or anticipation; I wasn't sure which. The only light came from a dim lamp and stillness rang in my ears. There was Peeta, sleeping on the couch. Feeling a little let down, I sat down to watch him sleep.

Whether good or bad, I'd counted on some sort of interaction. Anything would be preferable to whiling away the night in the usual way. I considered waking him, but couldn't bring myself to disturb his peace. He must have been exhausted. Poor Peeta. He so little deserved the hideous events that had left him so battered. After half an hour of sitting next to his motionless form I returned to my bed to catch a few more hours of sleep.

I awoke the next morning to the sounds of cooking: clicks from the stove, opening and closing of cupboards, water running and utensils on metal. Not sure whether Greasy Sae or Peeta were making these sounds, I dressed and brushed my hair before going downstairs. Peeta was clearly in the middle of some baking and I lounged against the doorway waiting for him to notice me. When he did, a slightly embarrassed smile covered his face.

"Hi Katniss. Thanks for letting me stay the night. I hope it didn't bother you."

"Not at all. Did you sleep well?"

"Yes, I did. How about you?"

"I slept OK."

Peeta's look told me he knew what I meant. He seemed as if he were about to question me when a buzzer recalled his attention to the oven. When he had finished his preparation we sat down at the table with cups of tea.

"So you had trouble sleeping last night? Do you want to talk about it?" Peeta asked.

It felt like old times, Peeta asking me about my nightmares. "It wasn't that bad. Actually it was better than most nights. You know you can stay anytime you want, right?" My invitation was sudden and utterly lacking in finesse. Peeta knew me well and didn't look surprised.

"I really appreciate you letting me stay last night, Katniss, but you don't need to worry about me. I was overtired last night and the thought of going home got me down. Most of the time, I'm fine at my house."

Was he trying to say that he didn't want to stay? It didn't matter, I had no shame. "Actually Peeta, I want you to stay. I mean, if you want to. It's nice to know that someone is here. But if you'd rather stay at your own house, that's fine. I mean..." I trailed off, not sure where to go from there.

Peeta's warm smile lit up his face the way it used to when we were pretend lovers. "OK, I'll stay. I'd rather anyway."


	4. Chapter 4

So it was settled. Peeta still went home to dress and shower, and he kept most of his things at his house, but every night he slept on the couch. We spent the days much as we had before, but I no longer needed to dread the moment when Peeta would go home and leave me alone.

One night I dreamed I was Peeta. I was camouflaged in mud by the river, just as Peeta had been after his injury in the first games. I was in pain, freezing and terribly thirsty. Into my field of vision, which was mostly mud, Katniss came striding. She was looking everywhere but at me, and I tried to call out to her. No words came of of my mouth no matter how I tried. She disappeared from view while I frantically tried to make her notice me.

I woke up feeling crushing despair and a nagging feeling that my subconscious was trying to get my attention. Was I failing Peeta in some way? Did he need help? Or was I the one who needed help and couldn't see it. That certainly couldn't be true; I knew I needed help. Faint sounds from downstairs interrupted my reverie.

Peeta was up and working on a painting. Watching him from the stairs, I could see that he was painting Johanna. The entire painting, her face and the background, captured her strength and volatility.

"It's remarkable."

Peeta jumped. "I didn't see you Katniss. You've always been able to turn up next to me before I hear you coming."

I curled up on the couch to watch him paint for a few minutes before asking, "Have you gotten any sleep?"

"Not much," Peeta replied. "I was dreaming of torture. I guess that's why I ended up painting Johanna."

My dream still on my mind, I asked, "Are you OK, Peeta?"

"I'm OK," he replied, "I just wish I could be more like my old self. All my thoughts and emotions feel so far away, like they belong to someone else. Do you feel that way?"

"I did for a while," I replied. "They're starting to feel more real now. I don't know if that's a good thing. Does it seem like a bad thing to you?"

"I don't know. I used to think I'd have to avoid thinking about the games and the rebellion to keep my sanity. I'm glad that I was wrong. I'm glad I can talk about everyone. I'm glad to remember a lot of good things that I'd forgotten, but I don't feel like I'm remembering them right. I remember things that made me happy or sad, but I can't bring myself to care about them or bring back the feelings. Only fear seems real."

"I guess it could be a good thing not to feel so sad," I said doubtfully.

"I guess, but right now, I mostly think it would be better to be miserable than to feel so detached."

So that was the trouble. I'd wondered why Peeta had seemed slightly distant. He was feeling distant from himself.

"Peeta, are you still on any medication?" It did not occur to me that he might not want to share this information until after I asked the question.

"Yes, I am. It's supposed to control my murderous instincts, though I didn't really start on it until after most of my murderous instincts were gone. I guess they just wanted to make sure I'd be OK if I was far from help."

"Maybe you should ask Dr. Aurelius if you can stop taking it. Maybe it's messing with your personality," I suggested.

"Maybe," said Peeta thoughtfully, returning to his work.

I fell asleep watching him.

The next day we started work on the page for the morphlings. They inspired some surreal paintings by Peeta and some oppressive thoughts for all of us. Haymitch was not keen to talk about them. I wanted to respect his limits. I also really wanted to know a bit more about them. One of them had saved Peeta's life and it seemed unfair to remember them only as addicts. Besides, avoiding memories hadn't exactly helped Haymitch to a healthy state of mind, so I doubted he would be much harmed by remembering them.

I thought about what bribe might be appropriate for the occasion and decided on fish. Bribing him with liquor would be too much like coercion since he'd do just about anything for a drink, but he liked fish just enough that it might tempt him if he were not more than a little disinclined to talk about the morphlings.

"I'm going fishing, Haymitch," I told him as I passed through his back yard. He was out feeding his geese, a task he did about once a week.

"Bring me back a couple, will you?" he commanded more than asked.

"Why don't you come to dinner?"

He eyed me suspiciously. "Who do I have to talk about this time?"

"The morphlings."

"Their names were Axel and Chassi, and I'll think about it," he answered.

He came to dinner and afterwards he filled us in.

"They were victors from district 6, though you already knew that. They won only 2 years apart, so they were pretty tight from the start. Axel was a good-looking kid and he mentored her with the kind of energy you only have in your first couple of years. I guess he couldn't get that invested in her without falling in love and of course, he was her savior. Chassi was only sixteen when she won, so they were left alone for the first two years. They mostly stayed in their district and were as happy as you can be after being in the games. They didn't do a great job of mentoring their tributes since they were so into each other. That didn't sit well with their district who'd had a couple of good years living off the Parcel Days. I heard they were pretty unpopular in their district when the afterglow of their wins wore off. That made them all the more reclusive and dependent on each other, I imagine. The third year they came back for the games, somebody powerful wanted her. She wasn't beautiful, but she was attractive enough and most victors were requested sooner or later. Most of us kept the requests to ourselves and either acquiesced or not. But these two made a big stink, insisting that they would die before betraying each other. Because they'd been so reclusive and had no close family, the Capitol couldn't punish them in the usual way. However, they needed to send a message that no one was exempt from the demands of the Capitol. From what I heard, she was taken in the middle of the night while Peacekeepers held him down. The man who'd requested her kept her for a week and I think he introduced her to morphling during her stay to keep her a little calmer. When she came back, she introduced Axel to the drug. At first, he resisted and tried to keep her away from the stuff, especially because she was a couple of months pregnant. But when another offer for her came, and they knew they couldn't refuse, they both gave up. I don't know much of what happened after that because it was pretty hard to talk to them.

"Did the baby live?" asked Katniss?

"I don't know. I stopped being interested in their story a long time ago," said Haymitch. "I don't have any more to tell you," he said on his way out the door.

Peeta and I cleared the table in silence. I imagined my life if not for the Capitol's fall. Probably Peeta and I would have been forced to continue the charade of our undying love while we serviced the rich and powerful behind the scenes. I certainly would have preferred morphling addiction to that. I was surprised more victors hadn't chosen that way out. Whatever difficulties we had in our present life, I'd choose it a thousand times over the life Axel and Chassi had been forced to live. At least we'd been able to fight back.

Peeta's voice broke into my thoughts. "When I was a kid, I always thought the victors were so glamorous and fortunate. But I guess life was pretty much over as soon as your name was called. It's amazing the Capitol managed to keep the charade going as long as they did when the victors were all so miserable."

"I guess lots of them probably didn't know how miserable they were until it was too late to do anything about it. Think of us! We were trying so hard to do everything they asked of us that we didn't think about where it would lead. I was terrified all the time, but I kept thinking that a year or two down the road things would get easier. It wasn't until I realized that wasn't going to happen that I was willing to take a risk."

Peeta's response was immediate. "Thank God you did!"

"I just wish I could have somehow kept you out of it, Peeta," I said sadly. "I can't regret what I did, but I'm so sorry that you were dragged into it. You didn't deserve it."

"Please don't let it weigh on you, Katniss. Without you, I'd have died several times over. Besides, even though I can't seem to feel much of anything right now, I know that my life wouldn't really seem worth living if you'd gone away and left me "safely" at home. I'm truly glad I could be with you, even though it was difficult."

Peeta's declaration took my breath away. The old Peeta regularly made statements that alluded to his unconditional love for me. I had thought that his love had been killed by the months of torture. Here he was talking about it as if it were an immutable fact. His description of it was matter-of-fact and almost abstracted, but it seemed sincere nonetheless. I had no idea how to respond.

As usual, Peeta knew just the right thing to do. He came over to me and wrapped his arms around me. I hugged him back and we remained that way until I began to feel self-conscious. We broke apart and continued to clean up this kitchen.

That night, my dreams were hallucinogenic. Bright swirling colors framed images of the morphlings, muttation monkeys, melting clocks and knives. I didn't know I'd been screaming until I heard Peeta next to me, coaxing me to wake up.

My throat felt a little raw from all the screaming, but the rest of me felt wonderful. Peeta was behind me, stroking my hair and cradling me close to him. I couldn't remember when I'd last felt so safe, but it had probably been the last time he was holding me.

"Thanks, Peeta. I'm sorry I woke you up," I mumbled.

"It's OK. I was awake anyway. I'll go back down when you fall asleep."

I grabbed his hand. "Please stay."

"Are you sure?" his voice sounded worried. "I don't know if I'm safe during a nightmare."

"Please don't go."

"OK, I'll stay," he whispered.


	5. Chapter 5

The next morning I woke to the sun streaming in through the window. Peeta was laying on his back, his arms flung wide and his hair over his eyes. I savored the deliciousness of waking up relaxed. My most pressing concern was deciding between going back to sleep and watching Peeta sleep. I decided on the latter. Careful to avoid shaking the bed, I turned on my side to get a better view. I memorized the scars on his neck that disappeared into the collar of his shirt. Some of them were beginning to fade into silvery lines. I watched his chest rise and fall. It looked strong again now that he had resumed all that kneading of dough and carrying of flour sacks. It's solidity was comfort and security to me. I looked up at his face and found that Peeta's eyes were open and watching me. I read in them the same peace and ease that was temporarily mine.

"Good morning, Katniss. Did you sleep well?"

"Yes, thanks. How about you?"

"Pretty well too, though I'm going to be very behind in my baking today. I don't usually sleep past dawn."

Even though a couple of hundred people had returned to the village, Peeta was still the only baker and anyone who bought bread bought from him.

"Maybe you ought to take an apprentice. There are lots of people looking for work. Then you wouldn't have to get up so early."

"Up til this morning, I was always up early anyway, so there didn't seem to be any need to hire someone else, but maybe I should take an assistant. I don't need the money as much as some of the others in town do. Until then, I'd better get to work."

He brushed back my hair from my brow, gave me one last smile and left. I hoped he would find someone to help him, though my motives weren't as selfless as his were. I just wanted to wake up with him as often as possible.

The day followed its usual routine of work, supper, working on the book and Peeta falling asleep on the couch. Again nightmares woke us both in the darkest hour. Again Peeta climbed into my bed to comfort me and stayed until it was time for him to go to the bakery.

When Peeta came home from work that afternoon he announced, "I have an apprentice, Katniss! I told some of my customers that I was looking for help and I had people coming in all day yesterday and today. I agreed to hire a young man with a sister and granny to support. I don't know him well, but I'll give him a trial. He seems pretty keen."

That evening, we finished Axel and Chassi's pages. When I was ready for bed I asked Peeta, "Are you coming up?"

He looked at me, questioning me with his eyes. He must have found his answer because he nodded and said, "As soon as I clean up my paints."

It was wonderful to fall asleep with Peeta's arms wrapped around me. I was still wakened by my dreams, but less often, and when I woke, terror was mixed with the comfort of knowing I wasn't alone.

Still, there always seemed to be something more to wish for. I usually awakened to an empty pillow next to me. He continued to leave at dawn to train his apprentice. The boy, whose name was Stephen, was learning quickly, and Peeta hoped he'd soon be able to perform most of the early morning tasks. I also found myself wanting more from Peeta. Especially when he was stroking my hair to calm me after a nightmare, I often wanted him to kiss me and caress me the way he had when he'd been in love with me. I'd never felt like this when we'd slept together before the quarter quell, but then I'd had a lot of more pressing concerns. Now I had little else to distract me and my body was making demands. I could not bring myself to do anything about it; not when he hadn't given me any sign that he wanted more than friendship. I began to feel on edge and hypersensitive to his presence.

About two weeks after he'd hired Stephen, Peeta asked me if I wanted him to move out.

"Now that I have Stephen to help me I asked to Dr. Aurelius to take me off of the medication and he agreed. I can't predict how I'll respond. Maybe you'd be safer if I stayed at my house for a bit."

Of course, I refused to consider this. "Besides," I argued, "what if you need help?"

Peeta agreed to stay, but not until I promised to let him sleep on the couch and lock my door for the first couple of nights. "Please, Katniss. I'll never be able to sleep if I'm worried about you. Do it for my sake if you won't do it for your own."

The night he stopped taking the pills night I slept alone. The first night was calm, but the second night his screams pierced the night air twice. As promised, I did not go to him.

"The nightmares are pretty much the same, but they feel more real," Peeta told me the next morning. "Please don't worry and don't come out of your room."

The third night I woke to my doorknob rattling. I knew it was Peeta trying to get in and for one awful moment I thought he might be trying to kill me. But his voice was pleading, "Katniss, where are you? I can't see you!"

I hesitated only a moment, then I was out of bed and unlocking the door. He stood in the hall, shaking and staring right through me. I wasn't sure if he was awake or asleep, aware of his surroundings or living through a flashback. I took his hand and guided him to the bed. I lay down facing him, my hands stroking the sides of his face.

"Peeta wake up! I'm here. I won't let anything hurt you." No response. His body continued to tremble and his eyes were looking everywhere but at me. "Peeta, what do you see?"

"Katniss, are you there? I've been looking for you. I thought the Peacekeepers got you. Don't let them get you. I know they want to kill you. They say you're dangerous."

"Peeta, the Peacekeepers are gone. They aren't coming back. It's just you and me."

If my words were having any effect, I couldn't tell. Peeta was still muttering to himself. I heard my name every now and then, but couldn't understand much else. Maybe if I tried to kiss him...It was probably wishful thinking, but I tried anyway. At first his lips were cold and unyielding, but as I gently pressed my lips to his, they began to respond. Feelings of blissful contentment and ravenous hunger consumed me as our lips melted together. I inched closer to him, wanting more. Peeta moaned quietly. It was not a moan of pleasure and I was returned to reality, ashamed of having lost control when he was so obviously distressed. I pulled back. His eyes were still not seeing me, but he was whispering my name. I stroked his hair and face and murmured reassurances. His eyes finally closed and my hand rested on his shoulder.

Sleep was a long time coming while I wrestled with feelings of frustration over my selfish lack of restraint and my unsatisfied appetite. My thoughts turned back to our nights together on the train and in the Capitol. If Peeta had ever felt the need for me like I was feeling for him now, he was a saint with iron self-control.

Peeta slept late the next morning, but when he awoke, he demanded to know why he was in my bedroom.

"Katniss, I told you not to open the door for any reason. How can I be sure I won't hurt you? I know you're trying to help, but it's not worth the risk!" he chided.

"I can defend myself, if it comes to that, but it's been a long time since we've had any reason to think you'll attack me," I reasoned.

"I'd prefer to wait a lot longer before leaving you unprotected in an untested situation. If you won't listen to me, I'm going to sleep at my house."  
I promised not to open the door to him, but doubted I'd be able to keep my word.

When his screams echoed in the house that night, I went to him. I soothed him til he fell asleep again, then laid down on the floor near his couch.  
I slept late, so I didn't see Peeta til he came home that afternoon. He didn't scold me for breaking my promise, but regretfully told me that he'd sleep at home. "I'm just too afraid for your safety."

"Peeta, I've been thinking about this. Why don't you sleep on the bed and I'll sleep on the floor? If I'm not within arms' reach you can't take me off guard. You make so much noise during your nightmares, I'm sure to wake before you actually get up on your feet. Besides, if you take off your prosthesis while you sleep, you won't be able to get around much anyway. I could easily get away from you if I need to, but I'd be there to help. I can't let you go through this alone."  
After a long argument he agreed to stay if I would sleep on the bed and he on the floor.

The rest of that week was exhausting as Peeta slept fitfully and cried out often. The weather was getting hotter too and made falling asleep even more difficult. We dragged through the days, heavy-eyed and lethargic. When evening came, we sat on the porch staring into the darkness. As often as not, we fell asleep there, rousing ourselves to go to bed for another stressful night.

The worry and fatigue did not dull my affection for Peeta. I had never considered myself a natural caregiver, but a desire to show what I felt for him had taken over. I could see now that I had loved him long, but with no means of expressing it, I channelled my unspoken words into actions. I woke whenever he did, soothing him by talking, singing and caressing. I cooked food for him and took him on walks. I helped him practice relaxation exercises from Dr. Aurelius, though I thought they were silly. When he was away, I worried about him. When he was home I was always nearby, waiting to help in any way he needed.

Just as I was beginning to think that I'd made a mistake in encouraging Peeta to stop his medications, the nights began to improve. He began to change for the better in other ways to. He smiled more and noticed details in a way that he hadn't since his capture. He spent an entire day painting what I assumed would be another entry for our book. When he showed me the canvas that evening I was surprised and pleased. He had painted me and Buttercup in a typical pose for us. I had Buttercup's face in my hands and was scolding her while touching her nose to mine. He had captured my indulgent dislike for the animal. It was the first time he had painted a scene from our present life. Peeta returned to work and seemed to enjoy having someone to work with. One day he came home with a story of a confused interaction between Stephen and a customer. He told the story poorly because he stopped so frequently to laugh. I joined in, mostly for the joy of seeing him laugh.

When I was in bed that night, watching him sleep on the floor next to me, I reached two conclusions: I was becoming hopelessly sentimental and I didn't care because there was reason to hope.


	6. Chapter 6

Thanks for reading! I just want to let you know that I added about 40% more content to this chapter. What I had originally written for the beginning of chapter 7 seemed to fit better here.

* * *

The weather was getting hotter with every passing week. After Peeta went back to work, I went back to hunting, mostly for something to do. I usually sat in a tree and waited for game to come to me. Nothing was worth chasing in that heat.

One morning we woke to the sound of rain. I had been dreaming of the acid rain in the Quarter Quell, but the terror quickly faded in the pleasure of waking to a breeze from the open window. I shifted over to the edge of the bed to look for Peeta. He was still there. He was now sleeping in some days, relying on Stephen to get the bread started

"What a beautiful morning," he commented, as he opened his eyes.

We lay silent and smiling at each other, soaking in the comfort of cool, fragrant air and the soothing sound of rain filtering through the trees.

Most of the time, wariness and weariness prevented me from enjoying moments of beauty. Today, though, I was inexplicably light-hearted. I was so excruciatingly fond of this blue-eyed boy and I was preposterously happy about it. Without hesitation, I reached down to stroke his face. He took my hand and kissed it, absentmindedly keeping it fast in his.

"You seem happy today, Katniss."

"I like rainy days."

"It will be a better day for baking than these past few days have been. It's felt like the bakery is one big oven. I've had daydreams about being hell's baker. I better get going while the weather is on my side."

After Peeta left I strapped on my gear and headed for the woods. The rain had stopped but misty coolness lingered under the trees. It felt good to be alive. I found that one of my traps had snared a rabbit. I walked the woods for hours with muddy boots and wet pant legs, settling in one of my favorite spots and bringing down a few birds. I hated to leave while the woods were so inviting, but hunger eventually drove me toward home.

Peeta's kiss had lingered in my mind all morning and I wondered what he was doing and when he would be home. Seized by an urge to see him, I changed course and made for the town. As soon as I left the shelter of the trees, I noticed that the sun had come out and was rapidly burning off the puddles and turning the air uncomfortably sticky. By the time I arrived at the bakery, my face was red and sweaty. "Never mind, Peeta has seen me worse," I told myself.  
I opened the door and instead of Peeta, a young woman behind the counter asked, "Can I help you?"

I was speechless for a moment, wondering when Peeta had hired this girl and why he hadn't told me.

"Um, I was looking for Peeta," I answered, suddenly not sure if I wanted to see him after all.

"Ohhhh, I'm sorry! You must be Katniss. I'd recognize you anywhere," the girl answered.

I was acutely conscious that right at this moment, that was not a compliment. I was wearing old, ill-fitting, muddy clothing. My braid was coming loose and a few strands were plastered to my undoubtedly flushed and sweaty face and I was carrying a game bag that was overpowering the fresh bread smell with the reek of dead animals.

"I'm Coraline," she said, holding out a clean, white hand. I shook it with my extremely grubby hand while she explained. "I'm Stephen's sister. Maybe Peeta has mentioned me?"

He had, but not her name or that she was working at the bakery, so I only nodded, not sure what else to say. Her appearance was as tidy as mine was disheveled and it made me feel even more awkward than I usually did. She was taller than I and slender. Although her dress was worn, it was clean and suited her well. She had large brown eyes fringed by dark lashes and her blonde hair was piled attractively atop her head. The warmth of the bakery had made her cheeks charmingly pink and the little hairs on her neck curl into ringlets. I disliked her intensely.

"Peeta had to run to the market, but I'm sure he'll be back in a minute. If you want to wait for him you could sit down and we could have a little chat. I've wanted to meet you for _such_ a long time. I hope you won't think I'm gushing when I say that you're practically a hero to me. I have so many questions I don't even know where to begin."

I absolutely was not going to stay and answer whatever questions she wanted to ask of a hero, so I edged my way towards the door.

"It was really great to meet you, but I think I better go now. I have this game to take care of and I don't want to get blood on the bakery floor."

"That's fine," she answered. "There'll be lots of time to get to know each other. I'll tell Peeta you stopped by."

"Thanks, but you don't need to do that. Bye." I closed the door behind me before she could answer me.

At home, I cleaned and dressed my rabbit and birds and then went straight up to take a shower. I dressed in a clean shirt and pants, resisting the urge to wear something a little more flattering and feminine. When my clean hair was braided, I went down to the kitchen to make dinner. Rabbit always made a tasty stew, which was fortunate since I still hadn't learned much more about cooking than soups and stews.

Peeta came in while I was at the stove. I didn't turn from the stove, but answered his greeting calmly.

"I brought some bread to go with the stew. I heard you caught something today, so I figured we'd be having stew."

"Yes I did. I guess Coraline must have told you that I dropped by with a sackful of dead animals."

"She did. Was there something you wanted?"

"No, I was just stopping to say "hi". I'm glad that it gave me the chance to meet your new assistant," I lied.

"Oh, did you meet Stephen? He's a nice boy, isn't he?"

"No, I didn't see Stephen. I meant Coraline. How long has she been working for you?"

"She doesn't work for me," answered Peeta. "She started coming in to help out almost as soon as I hired Stephen. She says we need help with serving the customers. I think she's just bored at home with her grandma. We don't have a lot for her to do and most of the customers don't have time to stop and talk with her. Everyone is so busy trying to rebuild and survive. Maybe you could hang out with her a little. She could probably use a friend."

"And you think we have so much in common?" I asked sarcastically.

"No, I know you don't. But the chances of either of you finding a friend who shares your interests are pretty slim with so few people here."

"Peeta, she said I was practically her hero. What do I say to that?"

"I know. She kind of hero-worships me a little bit too. I don't want you to do anything you don't want to do, but you both spend a lot of time on your own. I thought you both might enjoy a little company."

Was Peeta being purposely dense? Why would he think I would want to spend any time with a girl like that. Did he actually like her and think I would too? Either way, I didn't particularly want to continue the conversation.

When we went to bed that night Peeta yawned his good-nights and drifted off to sleep immediately. Sleep didn't come so easily for me. Questions crowded my mind. Before one had even been fully asked another pushed its way to the fore. "Why was Coraline working at the bakery? Was it simply boredom or did she hope to benefit in some way? Did she want bread or did she want the boy? Did Peeta like her? In what way? Would he notice if she did want him? Did he notice that I wanted him? Did he care whether either of us wanted him? Was I jealous of her? Was my dislike for her motivated by jealousy? Was I angry with Peeta for failing to mention her or was I glad that he hadn't thought her important enough to mention. One question I didn't want to ask, but couldn't help asking: What would I do if he ever decided he wanted to be with someone else?

I didn't wake up with any answers or with Peeta. He had planned to go early to the bakery, so I wasn't surprised, but I wasn't happy either. I felt infinitely more jaded and apathetic than the cheerful girl I'd been on the previous morning. The day stretched out in front of me, seemingly full of worries and annoyances, though I didn't even know what it would hold. Maybe it would be better to stay in bed than to face it.

That pathetic thought disgusted me into action. I couldn't let myself fall apart over this girl. It's not like I'd caught her kissing Peeta. She'd only been working at his bakery. Something was wrong if I came unhinged every time a girl crossed paths with him.  
Determined to show some discipline, I showered, dressed, ate and made a plan for my day. I would not leave myself time to obsess about Coraline. Really, there was no need to even think about her. Unfortunately, I was destined to think about her even more today than I had the day before.

I set off for town to make a few purchases. Though a little part of me was tempted to stop in at the bakery, I had made the firm decision to stay away from it. I could not let Coraline think that I was checking up on Peeta now that I knew about her. I would stick to my normal routines as though nothing had changed. I was headed for the market. Since the demise of district 12, most of the stores had closed. A few people ran little shops in their houses, but a small market had opened where sellers could do business one day a week or seven, depending on what they had to sell and how much time they had. I usually came on Tuesdays when the market was fullest.

The moment I entered the market, I knew Coraline was there. I'd heard her voice for the first time yesterday, but having played our conversation over and over in my mind, I recognized it without difficulty. She was with Peeta. She was following him closely and calling his attention to various goods. For a moment, I wanted to turn around and walk home, but I sternly reminded myself to carry on as normal, just as I'd planned.

As I approached, I heard her asking his opinion on a cut of meat.

"Does this pork look fresh to you? I want to make some pork schnitzel for Stephen. He says my pork schnitzel is the most delicious thing he's ever put in his mouth. Every time I make it he stuffs himself so much that there's only a piece or two left for me and grandma."

"It looks OK to me," said Peeta shortly.

"Actually, it doesn't look very fresh and I don't think the pig it came from was fed on anything but old shoes," I said as I came up behind them.

Peeta turned around with a smile, but Coraline jumped then looked at me with her brown eyes wide open. "Katniss! You surprised me! But I guess it's hard to notice a person sneaking up on you in this crowd."

"Nice to see you Coraline," I answered.

Coraline gave me a sweet smile and said she was glad to see me too. Turning back to Peeta she said, "So you think this meat is OK?"

Peeta looked a little taken aback. "Didn't you hear Katniss? She doesn't think it looks too good."

"But you thought it was OK, didn't you? I figured _you_ would know best." Coraline's eyes were practically worshipping Peeta, letting him see that his opinion about meat was the only one that mattered.

"Katniss is a much better judge than I am. I'd listen to her if I were you." Peeta then moved on to the next stall without waiting for either us.

"Yes of course. I forgot you're the mighty hunter," Coraline said, turning to me. "You'll have to advise me on _all_ of my meat purchases."

She seemed determined to flatter one of us into embarrassment. Besides, did she really think it was practical for me to come into town every time she wanted to buy a piece of meat?"

At least Peeta didn't seem overly charmed by her fawning. As for me, I liked her even less than I had the day before.


	7. Chapter 7

Just a little public service announcement. I added to chapter 6 after originally published it. If you read it before the changes, you may feel that you're missing something. Thanks for reading!

* * *

I managed to get through the next day without devoting more than half my thoughts to Coraline. Peeta and I had a quiet evening at home, working on our book. Peeta hadn't said anything about our encounter at the market. I was beginning to convince myself to stop making myself crazy over her. She was clearly not a remarkable girl. She was pretty, but not beautiful. Her conversation had not impressed me and she seemed to have less than common sense. Very likely Peeta didn't think much about her.

That was before Peeta came home late. It was nearly 8:00 when Peeta came home for dinner. I had long ago eaten and put away the remains of my dinner. I had cleaned the kitchen and the rest of the house in an attempt to distract myself from worries about Peeta's late return. I had just decided to take my bow and go out searching for him when he walked in the door.

"Are you going hunting tonight?" asked Peeta, surprised, as he noticed the bow in my hand.

"No, I was coming to look for you. I was really worried that something had happened to you."

"I'm really sorry, Katniss. I would have sent word if I'd known at the start how long I'd be gone. The fact is, I went to Coraline's house to help her with a minor repair." As he said this, Peeta glanced at me warily, as if to see how I felt about his explanation.

"Yes?" I prompted.

He continued, "I was closing up the shop. Stephen had gone, but Coraline had waited 'to keep me company' as she said. She started talking about the window being stuck in her room. She seemed very upset about it. Said she hadn't been able to sleep because it was so hot with the window closed. I suggested that she talk to Albert. He's been doing most of the carpentry work in town. She said she didn't have enough money to pay him and was convinced that it just needed a strong push. She was getting so worked up that I didn't feel like I could point out that Stephen is getting to be as strong as I am and could probably help her.

I went, but the window needed more than manhandling. It really needed a carpenter. I tried a few things, but nothing worked. By the time I had given up, Stephen had come home and dinner was ready. Coraline insisted that she had to give me dinner to thank me. I told her I needed to get home, but she started to get upset again. I could see that she'd gone to a lot of effort and expense so I didn't feel like I could turn her down. I'm really sorry. I should have just come home. I feel bad that you were worried."

"That's OK. At least you're home safe. But Coraline must not know you very well if she thinks you're handy around the house."

Peeta made an exasperated noise at the back of his throat. "I told you she hero-worships me a little too much. I'm pretty sure she thinks I can do anything. She'll learn soon that I can't. By the way, the house looks really nice."

I guessed that the change of subject meant that he was done talking about Coraline.

While ostensibly working on the book that evening, my mind was fully occupied with an unpleasant realization. I was more than a little possessive of Peeta. I was trying to be rational. I could see that Peeta had not wanted to spend the evening with Coraline, but it didn't make any difference. That she had attempted to lure him to her house with a flimsy story about her window infuriated me. She was attempting to take what was mine and I could not forgive her for it or see it in proper proportion.

I knew too, that this was not the first time I had been unreasonably jealous. I had punished Peeta when I was angry at Johanna for stripping in front of him. Even though Delly had been completely devoted to my cause when Peeta was out of his mind, I had hated her for being his trusted companion. I had even directed a few poisonous thoughts toward Annie after Peeta had indicated that he was interested in her.

I hoped that I was so crazily possessive because I loved him, but I feared that I was simply holding on tightly to him as my only lifeline. If I loved him, I ought to want the best for him, even if it meant letting him be with someone else. For a moment I let myself contemplate Peeta and Coraline as a happy couple, maybe even parents, living a normal life. The thought made me feel stabby and nauseous. If Coraline had been here, I would have gladly slapped her.

I let my emotions rage for a moment, then forced myself back under control. Or at least as much control as I was capable of. I was not capable of liking Coraline or accepting Peeta's happiness with anyone but myself. I hoped I could keep a polite distance from Coraline and be generous with Peeta, but I could never let him go without a fight.

It was not many days before my patience with Coraline was tested again. I had stayed home to avoid any accidental meetings in town. With strict self-control, I refused to allow myself to obsess about the situation. I was proud of myself for avoiding murderous thoughts about her, at least until she showed up at my house.

I was working in the garden. I had started my work early, but it was mid-morning and the bright sun was heating the day. I was wiping the sweat from my neck when she came walking into view, looking cool and clean as if she had just showered.

"Hello Katniss," she called as soon as she was in range.

I waved back, my face barely concealing my surprise at her visit.

When she reached me, she observed, "You're working very hard."

I nodded, not sure how to respond to her statement of the obvious.

She made another attempt at small talk. "It's turning out to be a very hot day."

"Yes, it is," I said.

We stood another minute in silence. She, probably waiting for me to reciprocate with the chit chat, and me, waiting for her to tell me why she had come.

Finally, she asked if we could sit down. I directed her to the porch and then went into the kitchen to get glasses of water.

I joined her on the porch and we sipped our water in silence for some minutes.

Finally, she said, "I need to talk to you about Peeta."

Immediately, my stomach started churning and my mind began searching for a way out of this conversation, but she was already pouring out her heart.

"I have no one to talk to about girl stuff," she said. "Stephen, of course, isn't interested, and grandma really doesn't understand. I'm sure you've missed having a confidante, too. It would be great if you and I could have some strictly feminine chats every now and then, wouldn't it?"

I was so stunned that I didn't answer. What had I said or done to make this girl think I wanted to be her friend? She took my look of open-mouthed shock as a yes and carried on.

"I needed some advice about Peeta and I knew you were just the one to ask. You see, as soon as I started working at the bakery, I began to see what a wonderful person Peeta is. He is so patient and kind and generous, and he's pretty handsome too," she simpered. "I know he's the perfect man for me and I'm sure we would be very happy together. Though I do say it myself, I think he does like me a lot."

She paused at this point and I couldn't help asking, "What makes you think so?"

"I have a real talent for knowing what people are thinking. My grandma always says that I know what people are thinking before they know themselves. I'm not sure that Peeta understands his feelings for me right now. He's been so traumatized by everything that he's gone through. That's where I need your help."

"I know most girls might be afraid to come to you with a request like this. Nearly everybody thinks you're as good as married, but I know better. I knew in the very first Hunger Games that you were just pretending to love him. I said to myself, 'that poor girl has to fake a romance to save herself.' Of course, I don't blame you at all. What else could you do? And I know you are the very best of friends, but anyone with an intuitive gift like mine can see that you're not lovers."

Her words were like a punch in the chest.

"I know you would want the best for Peeta," she continued, "and I want you to know that I would always take very good care of him. I want to spoil him to make up for all those years of misery. Anyway, I wanted you to know this so that you won't worry about him spending time with me. I thought, too, that maybe you could encourage him to explore his feelings for me. You wouldn't have to be obvious about it. You could just ask him how he feels about me and let him know that you think I'm a very sympathetic and understanding person."

"I can't do that," I said baldly.

"That's OK. Not everyone knows how to approach delicate topics with subtlety and it's better to know your own limitations than to make a mess of it. Maybe instead you could help me a little. I want to know more about the torture and horrors that Peeta went through so that I can understand him better. I'm sure it would help him to talk to someone about all that."

"That's not for me to tell. You'll have to ask Peeta."

"I wasn't being nosy," she said defensively. "I only want to help." She recovered her confiding best-friend voice and said, "Well, as I said, I know I can count on you. Just let me know if you think of something that will help us. I'll see you soon!"

She was gone before I had time to reply.  
I briefly had a fantasy of shooting an arrow through her as she walked away. I had never wanted to kill Snow as much as I wanted to kill her right now. I hated her for wanting to take Peeta. I hated her for patronizing me. I hated her for her braggy self-confidence. But most of all, I hated her for the truth she had seen. I would have loved to dismiss her as completely clueless, but had seen though my act in the Hunger Games in a way that most people had not. Even worse, she saw my current relationship with Peeta with some accuracy.

Was she seeing Peeta's feelings accurately as well? Was he beginning to have feelings for her? Did I trust myself to read his feelings objectively?

These thoughts turned my anger into depression and self-doubt. Though I'd vowed to fight for him, I knew I could not hold onto him if he'd rather be with Coraline. But what would I do without Peeta?


	8. Chapter 8

Thanks for reading. I really appreciate the encouraging reviews!

* * *

I tried pulling myself back together after Coraline left. I tried to analyze our conversation rationally. I tried to think about something else and go on with my day. But I couldn't. Neither self-respect or pragmatism came to rescue me from a spiral of despairing thoughts that threatened to drag me under. In my mind, Peeta was already half gone. Images of him living next door with Coraline filled my mind. I pictured them laughing and teasing each other while they planted gorgeous flower beds in their yard. I saw them welcoming Coraline's family for holidays while I watched alone from my cold, dark house. I saw them cuddling by a cozy fire while I sat in my rocking chair from dusk til dawn. I knew that I was losing touch with reality, but I couldn't stop myself. I simply didn't have the energy to keep trying to be reasonable.

Without paying much attention to where I was going, I wandered around my house and into my yard. Haymitch called to me when he saw me. He was doing his weekly care for his geese. I walked over to where he was and began helping him to refill his feed cans and rinse out his water bowls.

I was aware that Haymitch was talking to me, but I paid little attention and said "Hmmm" whenever he paused.

"Katniss, are you OK?" I finally heard him asking.

"What? Oh yes, I'm fine," I answered.

"You're not fine. What's going on with you?"

I didn't answer.

"Did you hear me? What's going on?" Haymitch repeated.

Again, I ignored him and started sweeping up goose droppings.

Haymitch took the broom from me and led me inside. He sat me at the kitchen table and poured me a glass of white liquor.

"Drink it," he commanded.

I took a sip and made a face, but kept drinking. At this moment, getting drunk seemed like a very good idea. After I had taken a few swallows, Haymitch began questioning me again.

"How are the nightmares?"

"Fine," I said.

"How is your mother?"

"She's fine. Talked to her this weekend."

"How's the book? Who are you working on now?"

"Book is fine. Working on Boggs."

"How's Peeta?"

"Never better," I said, a world of bitterness in my voice.

"I see," said Haymitch. "What's going on with Peeta?"

I didn't answer, just took another drink from my glass.

"So I have to guess?" he asked. "Let me see, what could it be? I've never known you two to fight much. Peeta doesn't like to and you're terrible at arguing. That can't be it. Did he ask you to marry him?"

"No, and he isn't likely to," I said sullenly.

"Why not? Has he turned on you again? Is the tracker-jacked poison back?"

Again, I didn't answer.

"Katniss, do I need to send that boy back to the Capitol for treatment?"

"No. There's nothing wrong with him. He's getting healthier by the day. Probably too healthy to be with someone as messed up as me."

"Who else would he be with? There is no one else." Haymitch paused. "You're not thinking of Coraline, are you?"

"Why not?" I snapped. "She's pretty, she's friendly and she's around him all the time. She's not covered with scars. She probably doesn't wake up screaming most nights. She clearly thinks he's Mr. Wonderful and I'm sure she wants to have his babies. Why shouldn't he be with her?" I hoped that was the alcohol talking. I sounded pathetic and bitter, even to myself.

"Maybe because he loves you? Why are you always so blind to how he feels about you?"

"He's not the same person he was before the Quarter Quell," I answered.

"No, he's not, but he came back to you and he spends every moment that he can with you."

"Not every moment," I muttered.

"Katniss, just because he spends a little time with Coraline does not mean he wants to marry her. Besides, you know how things are. There aren't many available men under fifty. Peeta's kind, good-looking and famous. You're probably going to have some competition. You might as well get used to it and figure out what you're going to do about it."

"I'm not going to fight off a bunch of girls for Peeta."

"OK, then don't fight. But don't make it worse by making yourself and him crazy every time he talks to another girl."

After this last piece or advice, we emptied our glasses in companionable silence. I was too fuzzy-headed to think much about Haymitch had said, but I was glad to be with him. Good old Haymitch. He'd never leave me. Even if Peeta left, we could live right next door to each other forever. With an alcohol-induced feeling of well being, I made my way home.  
Peeta was there and I was glad to see him too. I let him know it with a big kiss on the cheek.

Peeta's initial smile turned into a frown as he smelled the liquor on my lips.

"Were you at Haymitch's?" he asked.

I grinned and nodded. "He was giving me some advice."

"What about?"

"Oh, you'll find out sweetie Peetie." I never called him that. He looked concerned.

"Katniss, what's going on? You've been on edge in the last couple of days, and now I come home to find you half drunk. Can you tell me what I've been missing?"

"I better not. Too tired. I'm going to bed. Wanna come?"

The look on his face was pure disgust, or so it seemed to me. I wasn't so drunk that I didn't care. All of the sudden, I was ashamed and angry.

I turned and ran up the stairs and slammed the door. Peeta followed me and tried to talk to me through the door, but I was crying too hard to hear him. He didn't want me and would never want me. I was too crazy and too scarred. I fell asleep with these cheerful thoughts for company.

I slept hard and deeply that night. Alcohol does have some benefits, but it didn't make the moment of waking any more pleasant. In addition to a headache, the scene from the night before was playing in my head without the benefit of intoxication to take the edge off.

I had to admit, I couldn't really blame Peeta for his unwillingness to come to bed with me. He hated liquor and he especially hated to see me drink it. Possibly he was only expressing his disappointment about that, but I was afraid that it was more. He continued to sleep on the floor and seemed content to sleep apart from me. Sometimes he held me and kissed me when I was upset, but his demeanor was like that of parent with a child. He never tried to take it any farther; I couldn't help but feel that he didn't want to.

I showered and dressed and breakfasted in the silent house. I wondered where Peeta had slept. He was so tidy that he would have cleaned up all traces of his bed. I made myself a cup of tea and took it out on the porch to think and to decide.

Haymitch was right, I was making Peeta and myself crazy over Coraline. I couldn't continue this way. I would rather know his feelings about her now than to hang onto him while worrying that he wanted to be elsewhere. My heart ached desperately at the thought of him telling me that he cared for her, but it would be a relief to know for sure.

What would I do if Peeta left? My affection for Haymitch aside, I could not stay to watch them be happy. I could go and join my mother in her hospital work. It would be good to rebuild our relationship. Maybe I could go live with Annie and help her with the baby. His father had died for me, after all. Perhaps Gale needed some help. No, that door was closed. My future stretched out long and tedious without Peeta in it. For the first time in my life, I regretted being so young. I would never find another person like him and fifty or sixty more years was a long time to live so lonely.

Whatever the consequences, I had to talk to Peeta tonight. Unfortunately, I had longer to wait than usual. Dinner time came and went with no sign from him. I didn't bother to eat, I just sat on the porch and watched for him. As the sun crept toward the horizon, any expectation I'd had of a happy outcome to our conversation drained away. A little part of me had hoped that Peeta would come home, reassure me that he loved me and only me, and everything would be wonderful. But all that was wishful thinking. Even now he and Coraline were probably discussing how best to encourage me to move on.

Finally, he came into view. He didn't wave, but his eyes were on mine as he came up the steps. I wondered if this was the last time he would do that and the thought squeezed my heart painfully.

"I'm so sorry I'm late Katniss. I knew you would be worried. I don't even know how to explain what happened."

"Coraline?" I asked.

"Yes. I'm not sure what to do about her..."

"It's OK," I interrupted. "I understand. I want you to know that I want you to be happy, no matter what."

Peeta looked at me curiously. "Thanks Katniss, but I'm not sure how that relates to what I was about to say."

"Listen Peeta. You don't have to explain. I know how you feel about her and I hope you'll be happy together." I was reaching the end of my strength and I hoped he would just say thanks and go home so that I could go inside and cry.

"How I feel about who?" he asked.

My calm was gone. "About Coraline," I nearly shouted. "About that that sweet, pretty, conniving, cloying girl." I hadn't meant to say the last to adjectives, they just came out.

Peeta eyes were as icy as I'd ever seen them. My stomach churned. If he was angry with me for speaking that way about Coraline I was going to throw up.

"I'm not sure I understand you Katniss." His words were quiet and clipped. "Are you accusing me of spending time with Coraline for my own pleasure? Do you think I want to be with her?"

"I don't know..." I couldn't finish the sentence.

"Katniss, you're going to listen to some hard truths, whether you like it or not." Peeta was speaking with a rare forcefulness. "I love you because I have great taste. You have given everything, not only for the people you love, but for people you don't know. You take the hardest tasks on your own shoulders to spare everyone around you. You are as dauntless as they come. You care if those around you are suffering, even Haymitch's crazy geese. And you think I want to be with a girl who never had a selfless thought in her life? No matter how you've been broken, your strength and passion stir my blood, even when I feel completely numb. No matter how much I know about you, I want to know more. How could I possibly be attracted to a girl whose only good feature is a pair of nauseatingly sweet brown eyes that she uses to manipulate people into aiding and abetting her stubborn helplessness? How do you not understand? I love only you. I will always love only you. There is no one anywhere that comes close to you. I could marry you tomorrow and no woman would ever make me regret it. How can you insult by pairing me with that heartless baby?"

Peeta stomped off. I was left staring after him, stunned by this moving rant. My world had shifted again and it was an infinitely better place than it was this morning.


	9. Chapter 9

After Peeta delivered his impassioned declaration, he stormed off. I stayed where I was. Before I said another word to him I needed to reorder my mind. The first fact that took hold was that Coraline was not a threat. I gladly dismissed her from my list of concerns and looked forward to thinking about her very little in the future.

Second, Peeta loved me. He had said "I love you," only twice before. Both times had been witnessed by all of Panem and I had not been ready to hear those words. Now that I was ready to hear them, I was glad that I was the only audience. Of all of the words that would be said to me during the rest of my life, none would be as important as these. The loss of Peeta's love had grieved me more than any other circumstance aside from Prim's death. That grief had evaporated and taken with it a heaviness and insecurity that festered in my heart since the Quarter Quell. In their place, a small and unfamiliar hope was growing. Perhaps life could be good again after all.

More shocking than Peeta's declaration of love, though, was that he had reasons for loving me. Even before Peeta's capture, I'd had the uncomfortable suspicion that Peeta's love for me was a little insane. How could someone develop a lifelong passion for a girl because they'd heard her sing when she was five? I could place more confidence in a love based on an appreciation of my character, though he had been more than excessive in his praise of my virtues.

Whatever his reasons, Peeta had said, "no one but you". Again, this sort of statement would have scared me a couple of years before, but now I could accept it. In fact, I agreed with him. We belonged together and nothing would change that.

After getting all these things straight in my mind, I went inside. The house was quiet and Peeta was not downstairs. I went up the bedroom where Peeta was already laying on his makeshift floor bed. I lay on my bed with my face hanging over the edge to look at him. I reached down to stroke his face and his eyes opened. I told him I was sorry.  
"I acted so crazy because I love you too."

Peeta didn't answer but he pulled me down into his arms. We both fell asleep with me crushed against his side.

I woke before he did the next morning. A long and peaceful night of sleep had granted me clarity. Once Gale had said that I would be with the person that I couldn't survive without. I had been so angry at him for that comment. Now, though, I had to admit that he had been right. Long months of uncertainty about Peeta had taught me that I could not survive without him. He was my reason for carrying on and my hope for the future. My life might go on without him, but it would be a living death. I loved him and wanted him too, but in my heart I knew that I would rather have loved him unrequited than to have lost his friendship. Even without any assurance that he wanted me the way I wanted him, I was ready to bind myself to him for the rest of our lives.

When he woke, he smiled at me and hugged me close again.

"I'm glad you're here," he said.

"I'm glad to be here," I responded. "I always want to be here. Do you want to get married?"

* * *

Hello! Thanks for continuing to read. Sorry about the very short chapter. It feels like it's time to hear from Peeta, so the next chapter will be his point of view. I'll try to get that one out very soon.


	10. Chapter 10

If you've read any of the previous chapters, you know that my story has always been told from Katniss' point of view. This week is written from Peeta's POV. Hope you enjoy it!

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As soon as I woke I knew that Katniss was next to me. When she wasn't, I always woke in a panic, imagining the worst. Even after all these months, my subconscious still hadn't accepted that she was safe, or at least safer than she had been. When I could reach out and touch her as soon as I opened my eyes, the relief bordered on ecstasy. I couldn't help but pull her close to reassure myself that she was really here.

"I'm glad you're here," I said.

"I'm glad to be here," she responded. "I always want to be here. Do you want to get married?"

Her question caught me completely off guard. Could I be dreaming? No, I wouldn't have dreamed that. Sometimes I dreamed of asking her and receiving her grudging acceptance, but never her asking me. Could I have misheard her? That must have been it.

"I'm sorry Katniss, what did you say?"

She turned red and looked away, "Never mind."

Her manner convinced me that I had just missed something big. I wasn't going to let the opportunity get away. "Yes, I would like to," I responded to her original question.

"OK" she answered. I thought perhaps she might follow up with a kiss, or an explanation of what had prompted her to ask, or a suggestion of when we might get married, but Katniss was probably hoping that I would take it from here.

I decided to start with the safest question. "When would you like to get married?"

"I was thinking today."

Another surprise. I tried not to let it show. "We'll have to check if the registry office is open. Did you want to invite anyone to witness?"

"Not really," she responded. "My mother isn't here and I don't think Haymitch would care to come. Was there someone you wanted to invite?" she asked a little defensively. She was probably thinking of Coraline.

"No, just the two of us is OK with me."

By now I was stroking her hair and it felt like we ought to be kissing, since we had just decided to get married, but Katniss seemed a little embarrassed and edgy. I tried to reassure her.

"I'm glad you asked," I said. "I would have asked before now if I'd known you wanted to get married."

"I didn't want to until now."

"What changed your mind?"

"I just saw that we belong together. You said yesterday that you could marry me tomorrow and never regret it. I realized that I felt the same. So I thought we might as well go ahead and do it. If you want to, that is."

"I want to." I was about to tell her how much I wanted to when the phone rang.

"I'll get it," Katniss said as she jumped out of bed. She was probably glad to the excuse to end the conversation. Talking about emotions was uncomfortable for her.

I was glad to have a moment alone too. I needed a moment to catch my breath. Katniss' proposal was completely unexpected and I still wasn't completely sure that getting married today was the best idea. In my mind, it had always been a step a few years down the road, mostly because I was sure it would take me a while to convince Katniss to take it. I had been completely sincere in telling Katniss that I would never regret marrying her. She would always be the only one for me. However, I had always imagined that romance might come first. Right now, we were more like best friends and room-mates. I knew she loved me and there had been small shows of affection, but nothing more than might have been shared by two children. It felt strange to be marrying under these circumstances.

I also hated to think that Katniss' proposal had been prompted by Coraline's clumsy flirting. Katniss had always been jealous of any competition for my attention and sometimes jealousy had provoked her into rash behavior. I didn't want her to regret marrying me in a fit of possessiveness.

On the other hand, no good could come of my refusing her. She would be terribly hurt by any appearance of doubt. Besides, I really wanted to marry her.

By now, I had showered and dressed and was downstairs starting breakfast. Katniss finally finished her phone conversation and came into the kitchen. I was a little curious about the phone call. It was unusual for her to spend so much time on the phone unless it was a session with Dr. Aurelius.

"That was my mother," she volunteered.

"Oh? How is she?" I asked.

"She's fine. Just checking on me."

"Did you say anything to her about us getting married?"

"Yes, I almost didn't."

"Why not?"

"I was afraid she might ask us to wait and I didn't want to hurt her feelings by refusing her. As it turned out, she didn't ask us to wait to get married, but she did ask if we could wait with the toasting until she could be here."

"What did you say?"

"I told her we would wait if you didn't mind."

"I don't mind. I'd like her to be here."

After breakfast Katniss informed me that we could not get married until she had cut my hair. I had not had it cut since we'd left the capital and it had gotten pretty long and nest-like. I sat on a chair on the porch while Katniss snipped away. She was totally absorbed in her task and I was totally absorbed in her. It was impossible to have her this close to me, her hands in my hair without being affected by her nearness. I loved to watch her. These days, she was rarely still, her energy and vitality manifesting itself in constant action. She reminded me of a cat in slow-motion, every movement graceful, one pose sliding into the next. She was still dressed in her pajamas and they revealed more of her skin than she usually liked. I could clearly see the scars on her arms and neck. To me, they did not mar her appearance at all. The skin that was not damaged was clear and radiant and the silver scars gave her an otherworldly appearance. Her features were as beautiful to me as they were familiar. I rarely looked at her without feeling the urge to grab her around the waist and kiss her senseless the way she had done with me on the beach during Quarter Quell. But I always held back.

Since that wretched conversation after our first Hunger Games in which Katniss had told me that her love for me had been mostly fake, I'd had difficulty initiating physical affection with her. I'd been haunted by the fear that she wouldn't tell me if I was unwelcome. I needed to know for sure that she wanted me just as much as I wanted her and she had not offered me that assurance. I'd rather wait for her to be ready. I hoped some day she would be.

"Well, I'm not nearly as good as your prep team, but that does look better," Katniss informed me as she finished with my haircut. "I'm going up to get ready. I'll be down in twenty minutes."

She was true to her word and in twenty minutes she came down wearing a simple dress and her hair in a simple style pinned to the back of her head. She smiled a little shyly and I felt like I had when I had first heard her sing.


	11. Chapter 11

We're back to Katniss POV. Sorry for the short chapters. Longer chapters are coming. Thanks for reading!

* * *

Peeta and I walked towards town in silence. I was fully occupied in comprehending that we were about to get married. I didn't notice that we were headed to the bakery until it came into view. I glanced at Peeta and he explained, "I need to tell Stephen that I won't be in today."

We found Stephen working busily and Coraline keeping him company. She was the first to speak.

"Well, don't you two look nice," she gushed. "You look so different without your hunting clothes, Katniss. And Peeta, I approve of that haircut."

"Thanks," Peeta said shortly, then turned to Stephen. "I'm sorry to leave you all alone today. Katniss and I are going to the registry office to get married."

Coraline's face betrayed her complete surprise. Stephen smiled and congratulated us.

Coraline recovered quickly and offered her congratulations. "How wonderful for you. Of course, we all knew that you two were meant to be. Anyone could see that during the Hunger Games. I hope you will be very happy."

I longed to remind her that she had very recently declared my love to be play acting, but thanked her instead. Peeta also thanked her, gave Stephen a few more instructions then we left.

The procedure for marrying was very simple. We filled out a form, signed our names and we were done. It was all over in half an hour and we left the registry office as husband and wife. So brief and businesslike was our wedding that it didn't feel quite real. I began to wish that we'd had someone to celebrate with.  
My wish was fulfilled when Haymitch spotted us on our return. He was on his porch and he waved us over as soon as he saw us.

"You two are looking very formal," he said. "What have you been up to."

"We got married," said Peeta simply.

Haymitch looked a little confused. "Married?" Then he smiled at me. "You locked him down. Smart move."

Of course, I scowled at him but was too embarrassed to reply.

"Don't worry. He doesn't mind. Come share a bottle of wine."

We sat on the porch and shared wine and an uncomfortable conversation. Haymitch made inappropriate toasts in reference to our future. Still, it was something to do and I was afraid that that there might be a slight awkwardness between Peeta and I once we were alone. He would be home the rest of the day and it hardly seemed polite to escape to the woods by myself for the day. I wanted to be with Peeta, but I was afraid of the weighty questions he might ask. Why had I been in a rush to get married? What would be different now that we were married? What about having children?

Finally, Haymitch dismissed us so that he could go take a nap.

On the way back to the house, Peeta asked, "What should we do with the rest of the day?"

I had my answer prepared, "Let's go for a walk in the woods."

"All right," Peeta agreed.

We did not return from our walk til late that evening. We ate dinner and then went straight to bed. Peeta made preparations for sleeping on his floor bed. I had never really liked Peeta's scheme for sleeping apart. I liked it even less after several weeks. Besides, this was our wedding night.

"I think you could probably start sleeping in the bed again," I suggested.  
Peeta stopped his preparations and looked at me. "Are you sure I'm completely safe? I don't know if I want to take a chance."

"I'm sure. You've never said or done anything threatening."

"I admit, the floor isn't very comfortable."

"Well then," I said, gesturing with my eyes toward the spot next to me.

Peeta laid down next to me, his eyes on my face.

"Thanks for marrying me today," I said.

"It was my pleasure," he said softly.

We lay looking at each other. If I closed the distance and kissed him would he like it? I still couldn't read his feelings for me. I wished he would make a move.  
Finally he did. He reached out and stroked my back. I snuggled a little closer and enjoyed the comfort of his presence. The thought that we would fall asleep together for years to come filled me with contentment. I fell asleep dreaming of the years to come, knowing they would be good.


	12. Chapter 12

Thanks to all who have been reading. I wanted to let you know that I am changing the rating of my story from "T" to "M". When I started writing this story, I did not imagine marrying Peeta and Katniss. However, now that they are married, it seems that some "M" is inevitable. If you have feedback on this, please feel free to send it. Thanks!

* * *

Katniss woke early to a steamy morning. The bed felt uncomfortably warm though they had kicked the covers off in the night. She had been married two uncomfortable days. They had spent those days being very polite to each other, waiting for the other to start the conversations that must happen sometime. Peeta's arms surrounded her at night, but they did not help her sleep. Katniss was feeling stretched thin.

They ate breakfast in silence, feeling that their minds were blanketed by the hot, heavy air. Hunting was out of the question on a day like today. Katniss thought longingly of the cool waters of the lake, but the long, hot walk home would undoubtedly rob the trip of any benefit. After considering and discarding all of her options for the day, Katniss determined to spend the day laying on the grass under a tree. Peeta had promised to make cheese buns today, but he apologetically begged off any baking on such a sweltering day.  
"No, of course you can't bake today," Katniss said, not very graciously. Peeta sat next to her delicately picking grass out of the ground, stem by stem. It was unreasonable of her to be annoyed at Peeta for not baking, but she was feeling very unreasonable.

The day was before her, empty and tiresome. Peeta finally took himself off to paint and Katniss settled into a long day of nothingness. The only distraction was Haymitch's geese. The geese annoyed her too. Their honks were obnoxious and they left feathers and droppings everywhere. They had cropped the grass in all of their yards quite short and it was starting to turn brown in the summer heat. Many of the geese were going down the hill behind Haymitch's house, no doubt seeking fresh water and food. "Why can't Haymitch at least give his geese water," thought Katniss irritably.

Over the course of an hour, Katniss' guilt over the thirsty geese battled with her desire to avoid movement. When her conscience finally won out, she got up with huff to inspect the geeses' water trough. As she suspected, only a small puddle of stagnant water remained in the bottom. Grumbling to herself, she went into Haymitch's kitchen and found a bowl. Haymitch lay snoring on the couch and didn't stir, though she made as much noise as she could manage.

When the tedious task of filling the trough with bowlfuls of water from the tap was accomplished, Katniss turned to inspect the yard. In the shadow of a tree, some goslings were milling around. They were quite small, but capable of walking around the yard, pecking at the grass, Katniss filled the bowl one last time and put it in the shade of the tree, hoping the it would keep the goslings from following their elders down the hill.  
With that task accomplished, Katniss returned to her house for a glass of water and more idlenesss under her tree.

When the sun was nearly overhead Peeta sat down beside her with a plate of fruit and bread.

"Are you hungry?" he asked.

"Not very," replied Katniss.

Neither of them seemed to have the energy for conversation. Quietly, they ate their lunch. The hum of insects filled the silence. The air was oppressive and stifling.

Suddenly Katniss jumped to her feet. "Damn it!" she yelled, striding across to Haymitch's yard. Running a little way down the hill she retrieved one of the goslings and brought him back to his siblings. More of his brothers and sisters had joined the rest of the flock at the bottom if the hill, but Katniss felt too weary to trudge back down the hill for them.

Peeta had come to inspect the cause of Katniss' distress.

"I knew the goslings would escape from this yard," she fumed. "Haymitch ought to have built them a pen. If they go down the hill they won't be able to get back up and the dogs will get them."

"I guess we could build them a pen," said Peeta, beginning to rummage through a pile of wood scraps in Haymitch's yard.

"Haymitch ought to build it himself," snapped Katniss, but her anger had given her energy and she decided she might as well help Peeta since her mood would not allow her to rest quietly.

Peeta found some chicken wire and was attempting to cut it to as usable size.

"Why don't you cut some stakes for the corners. Make them at least 2 feet high," said Peeta handing Katniss a saw.

The saw was dull with rust and cutting the stakes was laborious. Peeta passed her as she cut the last stake.

"That one is too short," he commented.

Peeta had a good eye for measurement and he proved to be right when Katniss compared it to the others. Katniss tossed the stake from her and angrily started cutting through a new piece of wood. She was annoyed with Peeta for pointing out her mistake, annoyed with him for being right and annoyed with him for not making cheese buns. She was annoyed with Haymitch for failing to water and protect his geese and for raising geese at all. She was annoyed at the sweat dripping down her back and the hairs clinging to her face.

As she began to drive the stakes into the holes that Peeta had dug, a cool breeze touched her cheek. Looking up, Katniss saw dark clouds approaching from the east. Finally rain would come!

As she drove the third stake, drops of rain began to fall. The rain was as gentle as the breeze that had foretold it and it cooled Katniss' skin and soothed her soul. She began to feel that building this pen with Peeta was companionable work and was glad it had given some shape to the otherwise empty day.

As she finished her part of the fence, she started down the hill. "I'd better get the goslings."

The hill behind Haymitch's house had been created by the machines that had graded his house lot and its slope was smooth. Katniss half slid down the hill toward the flock of geese. When she reached the bottom of the hill she scooped up two of the goslings and attempted to climb back up to the yard.

When she was halfway up she slipped on the rain-soaked grass and shouted with dismay as she dropped the goslings.

She landed in soft mud at the bottom of the hill and lay wallowing in its soggy coolness.  
Peeta heard the shout and ran to the hill to see Katniss lying at the foot of the hill. Rushing to help, he found himself tumbling down the hill toward her, narrowly missing the goslings.

As he pulled himself up to a sitting position, he saw Katniss, her head still cradled in the mud, laughing hysterically at him. "What new mood is this?" he wondered. She'd been very irritable all day and though she rarely laughed these days, it usually turned into crying before long. When he looked again, though, he realized that she wasn't hysterical. Her eyes were happy and her body relaxed.

She pulled herself to her feet and offered him her hand. "Come on, let's do do it again!" she encouraged. Peeta was a little wary, but he followed her up the hill. As before, they were halfway up the hill when their feet lost purchase on the rain-slick grass and they slid the bottom the hill. Again and again they landed in inelegant attitudes in the mud. When they were too exhausted to climb again, they lay laughing breathlessly, brown from head to toe.

Katniss was the first to recover and she began gathering goslings into her muddy shirt. When they had them all, they inched up the hill sideways on their hands and knees. After the goslings were safe in their pen, Katniss and Peeta headed back to their house, shedding as much of their muddy clothing as they modestly could.

Though they left their muddy shoes outside in the rain, they left a wet trail through the house to the bathroom.

"I'm using this shower," Katniss declared. "You can go upstairs."

"And make a mess I'll have to clean up later? I'm staying here. You go upstairs if you want."

"OK, but leave some clothes on."

In spite of protesting Peeta's presence in her shower, standing together under the warm water felt friendly and cozy. They scrubbed themselves pink while laughing about the amount of dirt that was collecting in the bottom of the tub

"Peeta, your back still looks grimy. Let me scrub it for you," Katniss offered. Katniss gently wiped the scarred skin with a washcloth while Peeta squirmed with pleasure. "That feels great. Let me help you."

When he returned the favor, the atmosphere went from friendly to electric the moment he touched her. His soapy hands slid the length of her back slowly and she could feel how close he was though she could not see him. Her ordinary senses seemed muted and the only reality was her awareness of the man behind her. His hands traced her waist then stilled. They stood frozen, waiting for the other to move. Katniss wanted to do something, but wasn't sure she had the courage to act after months of uncertainty. Slowly, she turned to face him. They stood dripping under the warm spray, his hands still locked around waist. His eyes consumed her. It was too much. She couldn't breathe. Denying her own wishes, she stepped away, wrapped the towel around herself and went upstairs to dress.


	13. Chapter 13

Hello! Sorry it's been so long between installments. I find this part really hard to write. Hopefully I can be a little quicker next time.

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Since Peeta would be coming up for his clothes, Katniss grabbed the first thing she laid hands on and locked herself in the upstairs bathroom. To calm herself, she began braiding her hair. Maybe she could stay up here for the rest of the day. Anything would be better than facing Peeta. As much as she had wanted to close the distance between them, she was afraid. Afraid of intimacy, afraid her lack of experience would show, afraid of his reaction to her scarred body, afraid of babies, afraid of change. She desperately wanted him, but not enough to overcome her fear.

Katniss had finished her hair and was sitting on the side of the tub, her hunger growing more insistent. The fruit and bread were hardly enough for a day filled with climbing in the mud. When her stomach finally won out, she quietly descended the stairs, hoping Peeta had gone out. He had not.

"Do you want some eggs?" he asked. "I figured you'd be starved."

"Thanks," she said, sitting down in front of a plate. Peeta moved around the kitchen, baking something for dinner while Katniss watched him surreptitiously. His demeanor was normal and he hardly looked her way. Perhaps he too had realized they were better off as they had been. Good. Except she wasn't quite happy with that thought either.

"I'm going to tell Haymitch about the goslings," she said.

He nodded without turning around.

When she returned from scolding a drowsy Haymitch for his sins against geese, dinner was ready. Katniss was wary but could find nothing out of the ordinary in Peeta's mood. It was hard to fight contentment while eating the cheese buns he had made after all and a cool, rain-scented breeze was blowing in from the open door. They laughed about Katniss' conversation with Haymitch and talked about the news in town.

After dinner they watered and petted the little goslings then sat on the porch watching the sunset. Katniss whittled arrows and Peeta stared at the horizon. Katniss was filled with wonder at the magnificent normalcy of the evening. A few months ago she would not have bet on being alive, much less enjoying a quiet evening free from threats to their survival or peace of mind.

The sounds of frogs and crickets began and reminded them that it was night. Peeta went to bed. Katniss was in no hurry to join him. All alone, she found herself remembering the summer nights here with her family. In spite of the nightmares she had been suffering after the first games, the six months afterwards were a pleasure to remember. With plenty of food and their worries over (or so they had thought) Prim had blossomed and their mother had gained in confidence too. When the weather was warm, they often sat out here together, enjoying each others' company. They ate candy or cookies, relishing the luxury of eating what they wanted, whenever they wanted. Her thoughts were mixed with sorrow, but she was learning to enjoy the good memories without being overpowered by guilt and grief.

Climbing the stairs an hour later, Katniss decided she had imagined the electric mood in the shower. Peeta had probably just been staring at her scars. No doubt his warm heart had been grieving over her deformities and the painful events that had caused them. It hardly seemed likely that her body should now inspire attraction.

But when she saw his sleeping form, she knew that she could not argue herself into a friendly indifference to him. Just looking at him made it difficult for her to breath properly. Her chest swelled with breath she could not expel. She wanted to cling to him. Simultaneously, she wanted to flee to the woods and leave her uncomfortable emotions behind. At this moment, she was not sure which she wanted more.

He opened his eyes, smiled, said "good night," and closed his eyes again. Then she knew what she wanted more.


End file.
